The Right Time
by StormInMyHeart
Summary: Series of Vignettes over a long weekend
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Right Time

Chapter: Night

Author: StormInMyHeart

Pairing: Tony/Ziva

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: K, eventually M

Summary: A set of vignettes, each at a different time of day... I'm placing this at some future point, after some trials and tribulations for the dynamic duo.

Spoilers: Although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.

:: :: ::

Night

It was hot outside.

Not that this surprised her, really. She was merely registering the fact. The humid, warm air stuck to her skin and refused to let go. She lowered herself down onto the front porch steps. In a few hasty gulps, the glass of water that she'd gotten out of bed for was emptied and only some lonely ice cubes remained in the heavy glass. She looked at it questioningly, wondering where the water had gone so quickly.

Inside, behind her, lay the love of her life, drowsing - drowning, too, perhaps - on sweat-drenched sheets. It was too hot to breathe, too hot to move. Or so you would think. She shook her head in amazement at what the human body could endure. Well, perhaps 'endure' was the wrong word, really. A smile fleetingly crossed her lips, and then flew off again as she thought about some of the things she'd endured over the past couple of years.

She folded her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them.

Perhaps it was even too hot to think. She was nothing but her five senses, her thoughts and senses simply floating on the heavy night air. She could hear the crickets chirping and the waves crashing on the shore. She could smell flowers, spinning their web of fragrance in the night, intoxicating innocent passers-by. She could still taste the lime in her water and the salt of the ocean air on her tongue when she breathed. And, when she looked up, she could see a myriad of stars clinging together in a translucent veil that spanned the night sky.

The soft rustling behind her didn't make her look up. She simply pointed out toward the sky and spoke softly to the heady, masculine scent next to her.

"Is that the Southern Cross?"

He followed her gaze, and his eyes met the edge of the universe.

"I think I see a million crosses," he confessed, some timeless seconds later.

She just smiled at him. "No, there, just next to that palm tree," she explained, pointing at the tree in question. "Can you see it now?"

"Yes. I think I do." He leaned a little closer to her as he made his softly spoken reply. His eyes drifted to her neck, to that lovely golden skin that smelled so sweet... He smiled slightly, knowing by now just how sweet it tasted, too.

All of a sudden, she lowered her gaze from his, still a little afraid of revealing to him how much she felt. Still a little afraid of revealing those emotions - even to herself. But he was looking away, up at the constellation she had pointed out to him.

They sat there in silence for a minute or two.

"What were you thinking about?" he finally asked.

So he *had* noticed. She should've known that he would. She shrugged, and then looked back at the sky. "I am not sure I know anymore," she murmured. Which could be true, after all, she rationalized to herself. Thoughts tend to drift away on nights like these.

But he looked at her curiously, and, uncharacteristically for him, waited patiently for her to go on. With that look in his eyes again. There was so much more there than just a reflection of the stars above them. They seemed to hold the very stars themselves. Which was what held her attention.

"I was just... thinking," she finally admitted. Damn. She spoke ten languages, she could do any better than that, yes?

He smiled encouragingly at her. "That sounds rather... dangerous."

She reached for his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. Was it his imagination, or did he hear her sigh softly?

Her dark eyes were so caring, so loving. He touched his hand to the side of her face, an action he had never allowed himself, all those years in the past. He traced a finger along her jaw. And when he reached her chin, he moved his hand back up to trace that path again. This time, though, a mere breath away from her, his hand came to a halt, hovered in the air for a moment, and then slowly dropped.

And this time it was not his imagination. She did sigh. But he wasn't going to give in so easily. He would not allow her to slip away again into that dangerous maelstrom of hesitation and doubt. Moving his index finger to her chin, he gently, but firmly, lifted her head until her eyelids fluttered surrender.

His eyes broke through her defenses and, without a word, she kissed him softly, pressing her lips to his.

Then she took in a deep, almost shuddering, breath.

"I am not..." she struggled with trying to put it into words.

"Shhh...You don't need to say anything right now."

"I need to, yes. I should have said this a long time ago. I have pushed you away again and again; I must have hurt you so deeply. While I..." She paused, going over what she knew she had to say to him.

"All this," her hand waved around, motioning back toward the house and out toward the ocean, "has made me realize what a fool I was. We have wasted so much time. Time we should have spent together. I want to say thnat I am sorry. Because I loved you then as much - well, almost as much - as I do now. With all my heart and soul."

She paused a moment, studying his reaction. She was so afraid of what he would say that she almost didn't hear his reply.

"I know." He paused. "I've always known."

Her dark eyes widened. "You have?"

"Yes. I just had to wait... until you knew it, too. Which wasn't always easy..." he confessed

"And that is why I am sorry I made you wait so long."

"Well, I'll give you all the time you need to try and make it up to me," he grinned, his dimples showing.

She smelled his scent surround her, and felt his arms slide around her. Her head was reeling and her heart was pounding as the dizzy out-of-control feeling swept through her again.

Then he let go and she let go and they both let go.

It sure was hot outside.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Midnight

Author: StormInMyHeart

Pairing: Tony/Ziva (what else!)

Series: The Right Time

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: K

Summary: A set of vignettes each at a different time of day...

Spoilers: None really, although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.

:: :: ::

Midnight

It was still hot outside.

Hot enough for her to decide to drag their sheets out to the garden and poetically declare the world outside to be their bed and the star-filled sky their blanket.

"And you," she'd added, rather less poetically, "make a pretty comfortable pillow." Her tone of voice had not allowed for any protest on his part.

So now he lay down on his back, and she lay down with her head on his chest.

"Tell me about the stars," he spoke. "Where did that cross of yours go to?"

She laughed. A liberated laugh.

"My cross is gone," she whispered in his ear.

Now he laughed, too. A soft rumbling in her ear.

"Good," he said. "Good."

And then they just lay there, contentedly. Her head moved gently on the tide of his breathing. She felt safe, wrapped in his arms, under the stars. He wondered if she'd dozed off, as her head slowly fell to one side. For a while, neither of them spoke a single word. None were necessary; a kiss and a gentle caress being all they needed for the moment.

His hand played with a long strand of her dark hair, while his eyes scanned the sky, searching. While he didn't know much about stars, he knew enough that it should be more to the west now. He shifted his position slightly, careful not to startle her, until he had a better view of that part of the sky.

"There it is," he whispered to himself, as he found it.

She just smiled to herself at his eager reaction. Then she turned her head toward him, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Tony?"

"Hmmm?" His head was tilted back and his eyes were half closed.

"Does it... Does it not bother you, knowing what you do about my past?"

He pulled her a little closer, comforting her apprehensions.

"It only bothers me if it bothers you," he assured her.

She thought about that for a moment before replying. "Well, it does, in fact, bother me... some." She shifted uneasily, and sighed. This conversation was suddenly bringing up old memories that she really hadn't wanted to confront again.

"Stop beating up on yourself about things that happened when you were a wild child," he told her, giving her a grin and reassuring hug.

She uttered a small laugh in response to what he'd said.

"So... What happened?" he asked, curious as to what Ziva might tell him that he didn't already know about her. Admittedly, she hadn't had what anyone would call a normal childhood, but it couldn't have been that wild, surely...

"Oh, many different things. I was pretty wild as a teenager," she admitted reluctantly. "Not that you would not already know that, I am sure," she added.

"The usual suspects, I suppose - drinking, sex, and smoking?" he asked.

"The worst thing I ever did... One night, when I was right out of high school, before I went into the Army, I snuck out of our apartment by climbing down the fire escape..." she began, her tone soft with rememberance.

"Not one of those rickety metal ones that you get on and off through a window?" he interrupted, horrified at the thought. The apartment she'd grown up in in Tel Aviv had been fifteen stories up, and Eli had been a low level operative, not an executive, so their apartment hadn't been in some luxury building.

"Yes, one of those. After spending the entire night drinking with my friends, I tried to climb back up to my room. But I was too drunk to even stand up on my own, and my foot slipped; I ended up falling three stories off the fire escape. I woke up in a hospital bed the next morning, with not only a major hangover, but with a concussion, a broken arm, and twenty-five stitches. Not to mention Eli in an incredibly nasty temper."

"My God, you're lucky you weren't killed!."

"I was very lucky, yes. But the point is, I wasted a lot of opportunities, opportunities that I've come to regret. Once I got out of the hospital, though, I decided I had to take things a little more seriously. I joined the IDF, then Mossad. I needed to be something other than just somebody's daughter or somebody's wife. Although, being your wife does have nice side benefits," she added, giving him a quick kiss and caress, and lightening the mood just a bit.

"Ziva, all kids go through a rebellious phase. For some, it's more rebellious than others. That's all it was, normal teenaged behavior," he said, comforting her.

"Except for you, that is. I'm sure you've always been the perfect gentleman," she teased, knowing he had not been so very well-behaved.

He cleared his throat, "Well, to be honest, I did go through my own rebellious teenage phase," he admitted.

"All right, I showed you mine, you show me yours, then," she demanded, with a small laugh.

He put his hands behind his head, and stared at up the sky.

"It was right after my dad married Sydney, Stepmom number two - I was seventeen," he started, slowly. "I can still remember feeling so angry at everything and everyone, mostly at my father. But, of course, I couldn't express those feelings at home. One night, I just couldn't take the hypocrisy anymore, trying to pretend that everything was normal, that everything would be the same again."

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and she gently placed a hand on his arm for comfort, silently urging him to continue.

"Anyway, I went off to the local biker bar, looking for trouble. This particular bar paid no attention to legal age; as far as the owner was concerned, if you could walk up to the bar, and had the money, he'd sell you anything you wanted to drink." He laughed shortly. "Well, I went looking for trouble, and I found it. I spent the evening playing pool with some of the kids from town, and drinking far too much beer, when, finally, some of the local thugs came in the place. They wanted the pool table, and I stupidly refused to give it up; the other kids had, typically, hightailed it out of there at the first sign of trouble. One of the bikers called me a couple of names, I called him a fat thug whose mother wore Army boots, and, a fight broke out; I ended up breaking a couple of cue sticks over the head of this one guy with a Harley motorcycle and a tattoo of a skull and crossbones on his right arm."

He shook his head, srill ashamed of the memory.

"Dad's chauffeur, Harrison, had followed me down to the bar to keep a eye on me; he'd dressed down to blend in, having figured out where I was going, and he'd just stood in the background letting me work off my anger and frustration. Luckily, he managed to drag me out of there before I wound up beaten to a bloody pulp. Or killed. Of course, I did have to pay for the damage to the bar, but that was nothing compared to what might have happened. You'd think that I would have learned not to bottle things... emotions... up inside after that incident, but I guess you could say I'm a slow learner."

He sighed a little, thinking of his own stubbornness and stupidity, and what it had cost him. He sometimes wondered what he would do if he passed those traits on to his own children some day.

They lay there silently for a moment or two, looking up at the night sky again, each lost in their own thoughts.

"We are quite the pair, are we not?" she finally murmured.

"Yes. Yes, we are. You know, I think we should make a pact, here and now," he said, still serious.

"What kind of pact?" she asked, curious.

"No more guilt about past acts... for either of us. Agreed?"

She smiled up at him.

"Agreed." He returned her smile. "And no more talk about the past. From now on, we concentrate on our present and our future."

"Our future," she whispered. "I like the sound of that."

He sighed happily as he gently kissed her forehead and adjusted his head on his pillow. Ziva returned his sigh as she delicately ran her hand over his chest and adjusted her head on his shoulder.

"Happy?" he whispered, pressing his lips against her head as he spoke.

She laughed softly, stretching her body against his and wrapping her arms tighter around him.

"Very happy," she answered. "You know, you are the most passionate man I have ever known," she whispered.

He gazed down at her, smiling. "And just how many men have you known?"

"I thought that we were not going to talk about the past anymore?" she asked, a slight waspish tone to her voice.

"Too many to count, hmm?" His eyes sparkled with love and laughter as he teased her.

"As if you would welcome a discussion about the women from your past? Besides, you are the only man I have ever truly loved," she replied softly.

Her words caught him by surprise, but it was the look in her eyes that left him breathless. Her eyes shone with love... pure... honest... intense.

It was so hot outside.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Right Time: Sunrise

Author: StormInMyHeart

Pairing: Tony/Ziva (what else!)

Series: The Right Time

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: K+

Summary: A set of vignettes each at a different time of day...

Spoilers: None really, although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.

:: :: ::

Sunrise

It was already hot outside.

He lifted one hand to her face, gently caressing her cheek. The sensation of him touching her skin slowly brought her back to earth, her dark eyes focusing on him once again. She could feel petal-soft kisses on her face, and she frowned slightly as his fingers slipped from her body. He left his place above her, rolling onto his side and bringing her with him. She settled next to him, her head nestled in the crook of his neck. Strong hands stroked her heated skin as her breathing gradually returned to normal.

"Are you okay?" he whispered into her hair.

She sighed her answer, reinforcing it with a lingering kiss to his throat. He always asked her that question. As if she wouldn't be okay.

The thought made a light smile appear on her lips. She rolled onto her back and he repositioned himself at her side, propped up on one elbow. He smoothed sweat-dampened hair from her brow.

Her eyes fluttered open to see his face surrounded by light. She blinked twice, and then realized the light was coming in through the window by the bed.

"When did the sun come up? I thought we were going to get up and go to the beach to watch the sunrise."

"A few minutes ago." His hand brushed against her cheek. "I would've said something, but... well, I was busy. So were you."

She laughed. "We were, yes. Maybe we can watch the sunset instead." She reached for his hand, interlacing her fingers with his, and then raised her gaze to his.

"That was a little intense," he said, wonder and desire evident in his hazel eyes.

She gave him a passionate smile.

His finger started a journey from her neck down her chest, lightly exploring her flushed skin. "You know, that would've totally been worthwhile, even if you hadn't screamed."

"I did not scream."

"Oh?" A lopsided smirk tugged at one corner of his lips. "From my vantage point, I'd say that was definitely a scream."

"That was *not* a scream," she said, in a firm tone.

"Yes, it was."

"No, it was not."

"Yes, it..."

"Tony," she interrupted, exasperation clear in her tone, "that was a... moan, not a scream."

His eyebrows shot up. "A moan? I've heard you moan before, and that was more than a moan."

"It was a loud moan..."

"An extremely loud moan," he interjected with a low murmur.

"...but it was still... It was not *that* loud!" she protested.

A grin flirted with his lips and she mirrored him with her own smile. He leaned down and kissed her lips lightly.

"Fine, Ziva, if you say so."

"I do not scream when we..." she began, and then trailed off.

"When we what?" he teased, the grin growing on his face.

"When we... make love."

His teasing grin softened and he tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her close. "Make love. I like the sound of that."

"So do I," she said.

"And I like the way you sound when we make love," he just had to add, and his eyes and mouth laughed in unison. Before she could renew her protests, he hushed her, his lips claiming hers in an ardent kiss. He pulled her atop his body and continued to kiss her with a ferocity that would surely leave them both with bruised lips.

He sometimes thought that the passion he felt for this woman had no end, no boundaries. Despite the fact that he had thought he was drained of every ounce of sexual energy left in his body, he could feel himself stirring under her soft weight.

He rolled them over, pinning her to the bed as he kissed and nibbled at her throat and collarbone. Sharp fingernails dug into his back, pressing with a force almost strong enough to pierce his skin; the feelings they caused were both painful and arousing.

"Wait, Tony... I need to tell you... ahhh..." Her voice trailed off in a moan as his mouth began to trail lower. Her back arched off the bed as she pulled him closer. "No... no, wait. Ah... please. *Anthony*."

This time, her use of his full first name jarred him. How had she known that that would get his attention? He lifted his head from her chest and looked at her, the brown in her eyes barely visible around enlarged pupils.

"When I said we had one of those left," she said, pointing to the ripped foil package on the bedside table, "I meant it. We only had *one* left."

"Just one?" he asked, his voice a pitiful whimper.

She couldn't help laughing. "Yes. And now there are none. Anthony DiNozzo, what has gotten into you this weekend?" she asked, with lights dancing in her eyes.

"You're keeping count?" he smiled.

"I gave up on that a long time ago," she told him. "But the fact that we finished the whole super economy sized box is all the proof I need. Something has definitely gotten into you."

" Too much?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"I am not complaining," she hastily added.

"Are you sure?" he asked, not completely convinced.

"Did it sound like I was complaining?" she whispered, nudging him with an elbow.

He didn't reply, but looked in her eyes instead. All he found there was earnest tenderness. And that was all the answer he needed. The tight knot that had so suddenly formed in his stomach now eased and dissolved.

But there was still a question to be answered. He sighed and tugged at the sheet.

"Look at me," she demanded softly.

"I don't know, Ziva. It's just... Well, this, all this..." He made a vague motion, spanning the room, or the world. He sighed anew. He remained silent for a few seconds, and then continued, more coherently this time.

"All this will be over in a couple of days. We'll leave on Monday, back in DC a few hours later. I guess... I just don't know what will happen then. I guess I just don't want to think about what *could* happen then."

"I see..."

His gaze wandered over the sheets, up to her face, lingered there momentarily, then drifted off to the ceiling. He sighed.

"Yes... I'm not sure I want things to change. I wish this could last forever."

"Tony, everything changes..."

His eyes returned and locked with hers.

"Hey..." she said again, and leaned over to touch his chest lightly. "You can take the man out of Team Gibbs, but you can't take Team Gibbs out of the man," she teased, referencing his new job, starting Tuesday, as Team Leader of MCRT 2.

A small smile broke through on his face at her poor attempt at a joke. It was a start. She let her hand wander now, up to his shoulder, then down his arm. All of a sudden, he embraced her with such force he almost broke her bones.

"Thank you..."

"My pleasure," she spoke. "Now, may I, please, have some air?"

He let go, holding her by both arms, looking at her. Drinking in every square inch of her body. The body of his wife. The body he loved, caressed, needed... Just like he needed her smile, her enthusiasm, her dedication, her love. He needed her.

His body quickly kept pace with his thoughts.

"I think I need to pay a visit to our friendly neighborhood drug store," he whispered huskily, almost as if in pain.

"Pourquoi? There are many ways to make love, you know." Her sly smile sent a new tremor of desire through his body.

"This is true." He kissed her forehead, then each eye. "But I don't think I could stop there."

"Where?" Her smile widened as she waited for his explanation.

"I plan on making love to you, Ziva, in every way imaginable, with every part of my body. And I want to spend the rest of our time here making you scream."

His own smile brightened when he felt her squirm under him, his words having the desired effect on her.

"Just lying here in bed next to you excites me more than I ever thought possible, but the feeling of being inside of you when you go over that edge is something I want to feel as often as my body will allow. It's only then, when we're one, that it's truly, completely fulfilling."

She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her. Then, unexpectedly, she burst into gales of laughter.

"Right!" she roared.

'Huh?' He didn't understand her reaction. His confusion brought on a new waterfall of laughter, making him ride on a mild tremor.

"Ziva..."

"Only *then* do you enjoy it!" she giggled.

Oh.

"So, you see, I really have no choice," he smiled a pitiful response.

"Mmm hmm... All right, go on. Do what you have to do," she hiccupped between laughs.

He gave her a tender kiss, and then rolled off of her, coming to a sitting position on the side of the bed. He found his boxers and pulled them on.

"I'll get us something to eat on the way back. Any preferences?"

"The bakery up the road is supposed to have really good cinnamon rolls," she replied with a yawn.

He turned to see a playful smile on her lips. Putting on his best forlorn look, he jutted out his bottom lip. "Well, then, if that's the only thing you want for breakfast..."

His words were cut off by her grabbing his head and pulling him down to her as she kissed him fervently.

"That should answer your question, yes?" she asked in a whisper when they finally disengaged their lips.

"Yes. Cinnamon it is." A goofy grin had replaced the mock pout on his lips, and he finished buttoning his shirt and slipped into his wrinkled trousers.

Bending down for one quick kiss, he ran a hand lightly down her body.

"Don't move. Don't get dressed. And don't fall asleep," he chastised her lightly.

She gave him a mock salute. "Aye, aye, sir!"

He replied with a laugh as he tucked his shirt into the pants. Deciding it wasn't worth searching for his socks, he grabbed his wallet and the car keys and started out the room, almost at a run.

Who cared it if was already hot outside?


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Right Time: Late Morning

Author: StormInMyHeart

Pairing: Tony/Ziva (what else!)

Series: The Right Time

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: K

Summary: A set of vignettes each at a different time of day...

Spoilers: None really, although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few

minutes.

:: :: ::

Late Morning

It was hot outside.

The sunshine made her feel pleasantly sleepy, and the hand gently stroking her arm just added to her feeling of contentment. Eventually, however, there was a trespasser into her daydreams.

"Ziva," he said, "we probably ought to go in now. I'm getting sunburned, and besides, you haven't begun packing yet."

Her only response was to snuggle closer to him, sliding her head from his shoulder to his chest. The movement prompted the hammock to sway slowly, and she sighed contentedly. The rhythmic beat of the heart beneath her cheek added just another soothing element into her surroundings.

He smiled as she shifted her weight against him. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head, both motions again sending the hammock into a lazy swing.

"Do you think," she murmured softly, "anyone would notice if we did not go back home?"

His laugh rumbled in her ear as one hand cupped her chin, tilting it up. She kept her eyes half closed as he kissed her tenderly.

"You know that I'd love to give it a try. But, yes, I think eventually someone would notice," he teased. "If nothing else, Vance would come looking for us, just to keep from having to deal with Gibbs all by

himself."

She giggled at that last remark, pushing herself up onto one elbow. She let her eyes drift over each feature of that face that she loved so much. He was so relaxed here, seemingly having gone from busy NCIS agent to gentleman of leisure without hesitation.

Looking up at her, his thoughts went in a slightly different direction. He reached up to tuck her hair behind one ear, letting the other side hang down to frame her face. His eyes traveled downward, following the line of her throat as it disappeared into the low neckline of her dress.

And he did like this dress.

In fact, she'd said the reason she had bought it was the way his eyes had lit up when she tried it on. Sleeveless, the bodice hugged every curve down to her hips where the long skirt flared out. Tracing the path

back up, his gaze stopped again on the neckline, where it cast a shadow on the valley between her breasts.

What that shadow did to his imagination!

"Anybody home?" she teased, as she saw him drifting away.

"I haven't gone anywhere," he replied, although it took a moment for him to answer coherently. "I'm right here with you."

"So," she asked, "Do you think we have finally figured how to get out of this thing?"

He smiled at the memory of that first time. She had come outside, late on their first afternoon there, to find him lounging in the hammock. Her mock indignation had turned into a demand for him to make room for her.

He welcomed her with open arms, but in their efforts to get comfortable, he had unwittingly caught the skirt of her sundress beneath him. Later, when she'd tried to get up, the sudden resistance had thrown her off balance, tipping the hammock, and they had both

ended up lying on the ground. They lay there in the cool grass, laughing until they could hardly breathe, then losing their breath again in a passionate kiss that had only ended when they retreated to the

bedroom.

Every day they managed to spend some time alone together in the hammock. Afternoons, as they told each other bits of their family's histories; evenings, watching the stars; and one glorious sunrise, wrapped in a quilt to ward off the early morning chill. Each

time had been spent learning countless secrets - including the fact that making love in a hammock was far more hazardous than it was romantic.

He was going to miss this hammock when they went home.

He pulled her back down to rest again on his chest, wrapping his arms around her, and setting the hammock in motion once again.

"On the other hand," he conceded, "I think Vance might understand if we're a couple of days late getting back."

They were silent for a couple of minutes, simply enjoying being with each other without all the chaos that generally seemed to accompany their daily lives. The time spent here together had been one of renewal,

for they had started their honeymoon both emotionally and physically exhausted by the events of the past few months.

"How would you describe your life as a married woman?" he suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

She laughed softly as she absent-mindedly played with the hem of his shirt.

"Peaceful."

He smiled to himself. Even though she was a self-proclaimed pessimist, she could always see the best side of everything. His eyes twinkling in

mischief, he ran his hand through her dark hair.

"Sounds boring to me," he teased.

"Not at all," she protested. "It is very soothing."

"Well, I must admit," he conceded, "I could just stay in this hammock for the rest of the day."

She nodded as best she could, lying in this position.

"That is what I mean," she explained. "You _could _actually lie in this hammock the rest of the day and even all night, if you wanted to. And that is just what I plan on doing."

He laughed quietly. "Are you really?"

"Absolutely," she adamantly declared. "I am not moving an inch."

"How about we take a walk on the beach?" he offered.

"Would I have to get out of this hammock?" she asked, teasingly.

"I'm afraid so," he conceded.

"I am not interested," she stubbornly declared.

Once again they fell quiet for a moment, not wanting to spend the energy to search for a topic of conversation.

After all, it was hot outside...


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Right Time: Early Afternoon

Author: StormInMyHeart

Pairing: Tony/Ziva (what else!)

Series: The Right Time

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: PG

Summary: A set of vignettes each at a different time of day...

Spoilers: None really, although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.

:: :: ::

Early Afternoon

It was hot outside.

The temperature soared, taking the humidity right along with it. She took yet another drink out of her bottle of water, wondering idly how many gallons of water she had drunk in the past day and a half. And Tony hadn't been any better, and may have even been worse.

Speaking of Tony... She turned slightly, wondering why he hadn't spoken for such a long time. It was unusual for him to be silent for such a lengthnof time. Ha! She'd known it; he was sound asleep. Again. His internal clock seemed to have gone completely haywire. A wicked grin crossed her face as an idea came into her mind.

And about two seconds later a surprised yelp came from the man in the hammock, who was now wiping the remains of bottled water out of his eyes, watching his wife laughing hysterically at the expression of surprised indignance on his face.

His eyes widened, his smile uncontrollable. "I knew from the first moment I saw you, you were going to be trouble," he growled.

She laughed softly. "Wait... Are you saying that you did not fall in love with me at first sight?"

"No, that came about thirty seconds later. Or maybe the first time I saw you in that green evening gown."

"Tony, that wasn't love... that was hormones," she teased.

"Hmm... I guess that's true." He relaxed back into easy embrace of the hammock for a moment before speaking again. "Speaking of hormones... What are we going to do about McGee and Abby when we get back home?"

"Oh... I was hoping you would not bring that up. At least, not yet," she sighed. "I do not think that Gibbs would welcome anothern office romance, just yet."

"I think his brain will explode if he finds out," he offered.

"We shall just have to hope that Tim and Abby have figured out the difference between raging hormones and love before we return home."

He let out a low moan. "Can we please change the topic? The idea of my little sister and McGee... Well, that's just not a subject that I really want to think about today."

She laughed quietly at his open discomfort. "Tony, every woman is somebody's little girl or sister..."

"Ziva," he said, interrupting her before she could pursue that disturbing topic of conversation any further. "I really don't want to talk anymore today about anybody's hormones, especially Abby and McGee's."

"Fine. Whatever. However, you are the one who brought it up in the first place," she pointed out, just a little annoyed with him.

He winced slightly. "I thought we weren't going to discuss hormones any more."

She laughed as she moved upward, kissing his cheek, and cocking an eyebrow at him. "Well, at least I am talking to the expert..." she teased. She let out a small squeal as he began to tip the hammock in response to her jibe. Grabbing the edge to keep from falling out, she started laughing. "I am sorry. I promise I will not say another word about hormones..."

"Well, see that you don't." He lay back down again, smiling, as she settled her head back on the center of his chest. Tony wrapped his arms back around her, closing his eyes and relaxing. Ziva closed her eyes as well, just listening to the soothing sound of the crash of the waves on the reef.

Damn, it was hot outside.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: The Right Time: Late Afternoon

Author: StormInMyHeart

Pairing: Tony/Ziva (what else!)

Series: The Right Time

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: K

Summary: A set of vignettes each at a different time of day...

Spoilers: None really, although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.

:: :: ::

Late Afternoon

Damn, it was hot outside!

A sudden squall had blown up, disrupting their after-lunch plans. And the storm outside only highlighted the storm that had suddenly blown up indoors. As with most arguments, this one had begun over nothing terribly important. One of them had made a casual remark, the other one had answered it, unthinkingly, and before either one of them knew what was happening, accusations had gone flying around the room.

Then, suddenly, it'd gone too far...

"Ziva, wait. I'm sorry," he said, rising from the couch and starting to follow her.

"No," she said, quickly turning and running into their bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She wanted to scream... and break things... and throw a temper-tantrum like a spoiled child. He was the only one that had ever made her feel this way, and that fact frightened her more than the feeling itself.

He followed her and saw the door slamming shut just as he reached it. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, calming himself, before quietly opening the door and entering the room.

She stood with her back to him, looking out the open window. She felt the wind hot against her skin as big heavy clouds covered the barely visible sun, making the sky darker by the minute. The rain had also started to pour more heavily.

But she didn't notice any of that.

'_Please. Don't let us grow apart. Don't let us hurt each other again...'_

Then her mind clicked off and she stopped thinking altogether, letting herself drift away into nothingness.

Thunder growled at a safe distance.

She felt his hand on her back. She couldn't bring herself to turn around, but her heart melted.

'_He is here,' _was all that registered in her mind.

She turned around and saw him, and for a moment an involuntary smile flashed across her face, but faded just as quickly.

She began walking toward the door, but Tony caught her by the arm and stopped her. "I thought I asked you not to do that again."

"Do what?" she asked, still angry.

He caught her shoulders and turned her around to face him. "Not to walk out on me like that," he said softly.

Tears of anger and hurt were in her eyes. "You do not have to physically leave the room to walk out, Tony!"

'_Ouch.' _

There was a lot of truth in that statement.

"I'm sorry, Ziva. I know I haven't been myself this afternoon, or maybe I've been too much myself this afternoon... I don't really know," he said, and felt the words catch in his throat. "I just didn't want to burden you with all my misgivings about going home, about how worried I am that things will change once we go back."

She knew he hadn't wanted to worry her, but how could she tell him that she wanted to share in those worries? Why did she have to find out only now, and then, only by accident, that his troubles and doubts ran deeper than he had wanted to admit, earlier on? That they weren't just with the reduced privacy and time together they'd have once they back home?

"You know what your problem is, mister?" she asked, rhetorically. "You assume things. You say you don't want to worry me, because you assume that your doubts would be nothing but a burden for me. You don't want to tell me what's wrong, because you assume it's better to solve things on your own. You're so damned stubborn, you always think you're right. Yes, there may be some areas where your self-reliance is justified, but when it comes to our marriage, I wouldn't mind being consulted."

She took a deep breath and went on. Calmer this time.

"Love is a verb, too, you know. You need to work at it. So next time you're stuck, maybe you could just consider coming to me, instead of fretting yourself and leaving me out. Because... Well, it hurts. And, frankly, I've already had an overdose of your withdrawal symptoms."

'She's right,' he realized. He had been keeping her out. Again.

Because it wasn't money or any of the other thousand mundane things that might initially have started the argument. Those were just... issues for debate. But those were not the things that inflicted the emotional hurt. No, what caused the pain was when they withheld themselves from one another, refusing to share what they were feeling.

That inability to share had to stop. Here and now. He cleared his throat and tried to put his thoughts into words.

"You're right. I... it's still unnatural for me to put everything out in the open." He sighed and waved his hands in front of him. "I know, I know, it's not good to bottle things up. That's what kept me alone for all those years, alienated me from my friends, that's what made me lose touch with the world outside. You'd think all those years with you would've taught me something."

"I'd think all those years *without* me should've taught you something," she pointed out, bitterly.

She was sorry as soon as she'd spoken, and her defensive stance softened as she saw the look in his eyes. They signaled her with a plea for forgiveness, and carried regret as a white flag. Perhaps she'd directed more anger into the situation than she should have. Perhaps she, too, was pushing him away now. And she shouldn't do to him what she'd just been scolding him about.

Yet, something told her that if she let this incident go by, the next one, and the one after that, would be that much more difficult to head off. Still, diplomacy was a better tool to resolve a conflict than a declaration of war. And that went for relationships, too, as well as for nations.

"I'm sorry, Tony," she said softly. "But why won't you let me help you? Why won't you let me in?" Her head fell against his shoulder. "Why couldn't you just tell me what was wrong when I needed to hear it?"

He wrapped his arms around her and began rubbing a hand gently across her shoulders. "Because sometimes a gentleman is almost indistinguishable from a jerk if the circumstances are exactly right. But you're right. There's no reason to keep my feelings from you. You have a right to know everything. Good and bad." His eyes softened. "And there's no one I want more to share everything with than you."

Ziva felt his hand slowly caress her back, cool against her skin in the hot, humid air.

"I'm sorry, Ziva," he whispered.

And somehow, those few words were enough.

And it was still hot outside.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: The Right Time: Sunset

Author: StormInMyHeart

Pairing: Tony/Ziva (what else!)

Series: The Right Time

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: K+

Summary: A set of vignettes each at a different time of day...

Spoilers: None really, although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.

:: :: ::

Sunset

It still was hot.

Which was why they had sought out the beach. Between the coral reef and the pearly beach, turquoise waters tickled the shore. The lagoon made a perfect calm pool of relaxation.

Tony floated on his stomach in the shallow waters. Ziva occasionally glanced up from her reading, but all she could see was the top of his head, shoulders, or asshovering at the surface.

"As long as he's having fun," she told herself. "I just hope he doesn't come out all wrinkled. Or shrunken." That last thought elicited a giggle.

She moved to straighten out the hammock underneath her. He'd laughed when she'd suddenly run back into the house and reappeared with it. But then, he had no idea what it was like to carry half a pound of beach sand back home in your hair. Or worse, in your swimsuit bottoms or underwear.

Her insistence on the hammock had made him smile. Of course, these days everything made him smile. She'd even begin cataloging those smiles, as to their meaning.

"So that's settled then. We'll camp out on the beach tonight," he'd suggested to her. And smile number five had crossed his face. That was the smile that indicated that he was pleased with himself for having come up with such a good idea.

Ziva returned her attention to her magazine. As usual, she'd forgotten to pack any magazines for the trip, and had had to resort to what was available at the airport newstand. The _Cosmo _article about the origins of cosmetics was enlightening. It was amazing what tricks Cleopatra had used to get some body in her hair. She reached down and picked up her bottle glass of water ; sunning herself was all well and good, but she needed to stay hydrated, too.

She turned the page. "Find out what your guy is really like." Ziva gave a small laugh, wondering if the _Cosmo _quiz might prove to be enlightening, too. She rummaged through her beach bag and dug out a pen.

'If he wants to really surprise you, will he: A. Buy you diamond earrings; B. Cook you dinner; C. Buy you a black lace teddy?'

"Well, if *he* wants to surprise me, it ought to be B," she laughed, deciding that the quiz would be a piece of cake.

'You're on a vacation and it turns out you left his only good pair of shoes at home. Will he: A. Shout "I can't believe you left my shoes at home!"; B. Go out and buy new shoes; or C. Wear your flip flops.'

"Ww are on a vacation. What does he need shoes for anyway? Okay, all right. C. After all, I wear his shirts," she reasoned to herself.

'Your friends throw a party and you're both invited. But your friends aren't really his type. What will he do?: A. Come up with some lame excuse not to go; B. He'll promise to be there, but shows up late; or C. He'll join you, but only on the condition he doesn't have to participate in small-talk and gossip.'

"Ugh." Ziva scanned the next column, but found no help there. "I could really use a 'D' here. Oh, well, I will come back to this one later."

'You helped him by tackling some nasty problem at work and all his colleagues congratulate him on his clever solution. Will he: A. Show his gratitude with a romantic dinner; B. Make you his partner; C. Tell everyone that the credit goes to you?'

Wrinkles appeared in her forehead. "Umm... Not B. A? Or C? Why can't I pick two? No, it is about what *he* would do. Not what *I* would like him to do. Maybe B, after all? Oh, hell. Stupid quiz."

She tossed the magazine aside, annoyed. She looked out at the sea, where Tony was still studying the fish. She looked away from the sea. But his image followed her. Damn it. Her left foot shoveled sand on the magazine, burying it. She dumped the rest of their beach equipment on top of it, including a broken oar that she'd been using to build sandcastles. She closed her eyes. It didn't help.

She sighed, and the words she wanted to avoid so badly burned into her mind. 'Just how well *do* I know you, Anthony DiNozzo?'

"What's wrong?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice right next to her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He smiled an apology.

He stood there, a flipper in each hand and the pair of diving goggles shoved back on his head. Water threatened to leak from his hair into his eyes.

"Do not sneak up on me like that, then," she retorted.

He blinked again. But, this time, it was in surprise.

"Did I stay away too long? Did you get bored?"

"Not really."

Now what on earth was wrong with her? Why this sudden change in behavior?

"Let me ask you something," she suddenly fired off. "If I had forgotten your shoes at home, what would you do?"

"You forgot my shoes?"

"No. I said *if*. Hypothetically."

"Well, I'd walk home bare-footed. It's not that far, really," he reasoned. "Look, if my shoes are bothering you this much, I'll throw them away," he teased.

"It is not your shoes..."

"Not the shoes? So what did you leave at home then? My shirt? My towel? Actually, I could use a towel," he hinted.

"I did not forget anything," she said, tossing him his towel.

He started to dry himself off in silence, waiting for her to explain what this was all about.

"It is... Oh, there is this stupid _Cosmo _quiz about relationships, and I did not know how to answer," she finally confessed.

"A _Cosmo _quiz? Ziva, you're not going to judge our relationship by _Cosmo _standards, are you?" Tony asked, a little amused.

Ziva remained silent.

"Ziva?"

"But what if _Cosmo _standards *are* my standards?" she blurted out.

"Ziva, sweetheart, look at me. You don't really believe that, do you? _Cosmo _is barely a step up from a tabloid. It has no intrinsic value at all. I mean, what can you really learn from reading a magazine like this?"

"That Cleopatra used eyeliner?" she joked.

"All right. Let me see this quiz," he insisted.

Ziva dug up the magazine and handed it to him, reluctantly. Tony scanned it quickly.

"Question 11. 'What does he consider to be your best quality? A. Your intelligence; B. Your beauty; or, C. Your sense of humor?'"

She looked up at him now.

"Now, do I get an answer? You have five seconds."

"You know, you told me the answer, not so long ago," she smiled, slowly.

"Three seconds."

"Okay, okay. All of the above."

"Wrong."

She stared at him.

"All of the above, and much more," he said, in the most decisive tone of voice.

Her smile broke through in all its splendor.

"When will you finally believe that I love you, just the way you are?"

"Try repeating it for the next fifty years." He smiled at her comment. "And yet..." she hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Well... You never _really _talk about yourself, Tony. About your past."

He smiled.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

"Oh, nothing really," he replied, still smiling. "It's just that I seem to recall that, not a few hours ago, we agreed not to dwell on the past, but concentrate on our future instead."

"Yes... But I have a sneaking suspicion that you're hiding some pretty interesting stories."

"Worried about that shadowy past of mine, hmm? What is it, afraid I might turn out to be a serial killer?" he teased.

"Well..." she drew the word out, teasing him in return. Then she turned suddenly serious. "Tony, it's just that you're forty-three years old, and I only met you a few years ago. There's a whole lot of your life I don't know much about," she explained.

"And here I thought a bit of mystery would appeal to you," he teased her.

"Well... maybe there are some things I do not want to know. Or need to know. You don't have to 'tell all.' But I want you to know that you do not have to hold anything back from me. We are married, remember - for better and for worse. In sickness and in health."

"And for past and for future, too, it seems," he added. "I promise to do honor to those vows," he assured her.

She smiled. No, she beamed. She was a hopeless romantic, and he knew it. He took her hands and brought them up around his neck. Maybe he, too, was a hopeless romantic, nowadays.

"You may now kiss the bride," he whispered, then leaned over and did honor to that vow, too. He brought his hands together, down at her back, and pulled her close, so he could rest his forehead against hers. If anyone had looked at them from a distance right then, they couldn't have said whether there were two figures, or just one.

There they stood, defying time and space. After a while, Tony started humming a wordless tune under his breath, and he opened his eyes. Just a bit.

"Look, it's already sunset," he whispered.

Ziva turned around slowly.

"No, there are still five minutes until it is over," she informed him.

She sat back down, this time on her blanket, stretching out, and he joined her, sitting Indian style next to her.

They watched how yellow turned into orange, then deepened into copper and deep red.

"This is what going to the beach is all about," Ziva sighed, breathing in the salt air and letting the wind blow her hair off her face. Tony watched the sun as a small cloud drifted by. The cloud became a deep auburn color, almost matching the highlights in Ziva's hair. He instantly fell in love with that color.

In a last attempt to overcome the night, the sun now colored the skies, the waters, and the land. The ocean's surface mirrored a distorted image. A long, red ribbon, broken by the waves, ran from the horizon almost all the way to the beach. A few lost rays danced on Ziva's face.

"There it goes," she whispered, as the sun sank below the horizon. She snuggled close to him for a moment. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her right there.

"I love you," he simply said.

She looked up at him, studied him for a second.

"I know."

"So I don't have to say it anymore, now?"

"Do not push your luck," she smiled.

Which made him pull her even closer.

"I never realized how beautiful a sunset could be," he confessed.

She didn't reply, didn't even move. She just stared out into the water, as if looking for something. She uncrossed her legs and sat on her knees, as if trying to get a closer look.

"Are you ready to go?" he wondered.

"No, not just yet," she answered, still looking out into the water. He uncrossed his legs and sat on his knees, too, trying to figure out what she was looking at.

Her eyes grew dark and mysterious as the night did the same. Her hair shimmered and blew about in the gentle breeze. Her scent was intoxicating.

He leaned in to kiss her, and was startled when she abruptly stood up.

"I am ready now." She reached a hand down to help him up.

"What was that all about?" he wanted to know.

"What? Oh... Nothing, really. Just taking it all in," she replied, still somewhat absently. "It will be a long time before I will see the sun disappearing into the ocean again."

Was that regret, coming through in her voice? A trace of melancholy? Suddenly, the mood seemed a little heavier, now that the sun was gone.

"You know... I heard that there's a new little café in the town," he offered, pretending not to notice that lost look in her eyes. "They're supposed to have the best food and wine on the island. And since it's our last night..."

Her eyes focused again, and he was their focal point.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful, Tony. I am famished!"

"You usually are," he teased.

She turned slightly to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "And just what are you implying?"

"Only that you have a healthy appetite, Ziva."

She stepped closer to him, until there was barely air between them. "Like I said: what are you implying?" Her gaze locked with his.

He was momentarily lost in the smell of her perfume and the closeness of her body. When the meaning behind her words dawned on him, his mind filled with erotic images, and he blushed. He quickly shifted his gaze to the beach over her shoulder.

Her smile broadened as the color deepened in her husband's face.

"You know, you are cute when you blush," she whispered in his ear. "And I can read you like an open book."

He looked at her, not understanding.

"There never was a question eleven," she stated. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and her smile was infectious.

Before he could think of a reply, however, she grabbed his arm and led him toward the car and food, and who knew what else.

It was hot outside.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: The Right Time: Twilight

Author: StormInMyHeart

Pairing: Tony/Ziva (what else!)

Series: The Right Time

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: K+

Summary: A set of vignettes each at a different time of day...

Spoilers: None really, although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.

:: :: ::

Twilight

It was hot outside.

Tony had set his mind on building her a campfire. He had drug tons of driftwood to their little spot on the beach, not allowing her to help one bit.

"No, no, this is our final night. I'll take care of it all. You just sit and relax."

"Like I've been doing anything else these past two days," she had smiled.

"Now that you mention it: have you *ever* done anything else?" he'd teased her, before taking off down the beach.

A pursuit in the sand had been the result. And a cheating start was the only way he'd been able to gain an advangtage over her extensive training schedule and ten fewer years. Although she was no less adverse to using deceit than he was, to gain an advantage.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, when she doubled up in pain.

"Ow! My... ankle. It... hurts," she managed to explain, with a grimace on her face.

"Let me have a look."

As soon as he bowed over her foot, she grabbed his shoulders and let her full weight fall on him. Caught by surprise, he landed in the sand with a thud. She quickly threw her leg over him and sat down on his stomach, forcing his wrists to the ground.

"Ha! Now, apologize!"

"Damn it, you treacherous woman! You need to be taught a lesson!" he exclaimed.

He tried to loosen her grip, while she tried desperately to hold him down. She moved her head from left to right, so her hair brushed over his face.

"Apologize!"

"Never!"

Suddenly he bolted up and with a startled yelp, she slipped to the side. He immediately took advantage of the situation and went for her sides.

"Stop it!" she gasped.

"Why? Your ankle hurts?"

"Yes!"

Finally, she managed to ward off his unfair attack on her ticklish spots. A sudden, but no less passionate, kiss did the trick. She realized that she should've thought of that earlier. They collapsed on the beach, laughing, panting, and trying to catch their breath.

Later on, as they sat next to the fire, peace had returned. The hungry flames licked the night sky. Smoke curved whirling pathways in the air.

She looked almost unearthly. Dark curls framed her face and her skin was cast in an eerie red glow. Her eyes had never been deeper. From those endless ponds, a flicker rose slowly and burned itself into his soul. She was unreal, sent to him by some higher force. Elusive as the smoke, burning like the flames. Then his dream woman shifted position and the movement made her human again. Tangible. Lovable.

"This reminds me so much of my childhood," his voice cut the silence.

"Really?" she asked. "You shared a campfire with some woman then, too?"

He laughed shortly.

"Not really, no. Although we might have fantasized about it all right," he admitted. "When I young at summer camp, we'd always build a fire. Every single night."

His thoughts drifted off again.

"Where did you go camping then?" she asked. Now that he had finally let her into his past, she was eager to learn more about it.

"Lots of places. Our family had a cottage on Nantucket. I spent hours, days, trekking through the area. Biking, canoeing, or just lying down in the meadow watching the clouds. Playing hide and seek with the neighbor's kids."

"Your parents never took you abroad?"

"Oh, yes, they did. Cannes, Nice, Florence, Venice, Hong Kong, Tokyo. They wined and dined, while I was put down on some chair and struggled with the cutlery," he remembered, momentarily reliving the embarrassment and boredom. He sighed. "No, I preferred home back then."

"And now?" she asked, softly.

For a moment, he remained silent. Mulling over the question.

"I don't know. I don't really miss the exotic places or even people, I think."

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"It's odd. When I was a teenage boy, most of the people I felt comfortable with were much older. Our gardener, George. And our cook, Mrs. Anderson. I wonder..."

His eyes got that faraway look in them. Then he shook his head.

"Well, they must be all dead by now." He shrugged. "So, no, I don't miss the people..."

His eyes broke away from the flames and he looked at her now.

"But I do miss some of the places we stayed. England, for example. The hillsides, the moors, the woods, the cottages, old water-mills and the ruins. It's all so mystical there, Ziva, so ancient. Just take... Bayham Abbey, for example. The place breathes history. It's unworldly... You walk between those few remaining naked walls, with their empty arched windows. A few stairs, hidden in the grass. And then, lost in some corner, an angel's stony face smiles at you. You turn the corner, and you see the altar, weighted down under the burden of a gigantic oak. The tree's left side is dead and barren, while the right side is strong and green. It's so unreal."

He fell silent again, as if he was considering some possibility.

"I'll take you there some day," he resumed, in a decisive voice. "I want you to see all these places. Sissinghurst Gardens. Hampton Court. The places my ancestors are named after; Neville of Raby, Saint Margaret-at-Cliffe... They have the world's best scones, there. Snowdonia in Wales. Or Kintyre in Scotland. Now, that is a mystical, or rather misty place. There's even... How does it go again..."

He halted, and wrinkles appeared in his forehead. Then he started to hum softly.

"Mull of Kintyre,

Oh, mist rolling in from the sea.

My desire

Is always to be here.

Oh, Mull of Kintyre."

He looked at her. Then he suddenly grinned and went on, improvising along the way.

"On a beach with a fire

Waves rolling in from the sea

My desire..."

He stopped for a second, thought, then started anew. With greater courage this time.

"On a beach with a fire

Waves rolling in from the sea

My desire

Is sitting here with me

On a beach with a fire."

His voice had gained strength and resonated over the beach now. He went over to her and sank on his knees, strumming on an invisible guitar. She giggled.

"Oh, I'd be a liar

If I said you didn't move me

My desire

Rises when I see thee

Oh, higher and higher."

Now she snorted out loud.

"You know, you should take the stage yourself, one day," she laughed. "It would be quite a spectacle."

He laughed at himself, along with her. Then, letting his eyes wander over her, he noticed the faint scar on her left ankle, which he traced lightly with his hand. He'd wondered about it before, but had never asked her about it. "Where did this come from?"

She leaned over, looking down at his fingers. "What?"

"This scar."

She shrugged as she leaned back. "You remember that fire escape I told you about?"

He looked over as she laid her head back. He reached over, seeing another fine white line at the base of her neck. "And this one?"

She lifted her head once again. "Tony, if you're going to start asking me about every injury I've ever had, well, I'm afraid we're going to be here all night."

She sat up, suddenly pulling her legs out from under his hand, as she looked him in the eyes. "You know, of all the men, of all the time I've spent with someone else, you are the first one to have noticed my scars or to show any concern about where they came frim. That means a lot to me."

He looked over at her, a bit confused. "What about Ray?"

She smiled. "He never even noticed."

He pulled back. "You're kidding?"

She laughed. "Tony, Ray wasn't exactly the most attentive of men. And I can't say Ray and I spent a lot of time under the same roof." Her smile grew. "And even when we did, it wasn't spent discussing this sort of thing."

He chuckled. "I think I really don't want to get into that discussion."

"Hmmm... what other topic of conversation is of interest to you?"

He pulled her feet back over toward him. "Maybe we can discover exactly where that scar ends."

She suddenly stood up, walking down the beach a few steps, before turning back to face him. "I already know where that scar ends... But if you want to find out for yourself, you will have to come over here for the answer."

And with that she ran down beach, laughing at the surprised expression on his face.

It sure was hot out tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: The Right Time: Late Night

Author: StormInMyHeart

Email: deweycat

Pairing: Tony/Ziva (what else!)

Series: The Right Time

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: K+

Summary: A set of vignettes each at a different time of day...

Spoilers: None really, although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.

:: :: ::

Late Night

It was still hot outside.

He sat on a blanket, watching the red-glowing embers. One eye on the fire, and the other one on Ziva as she lay back on her own blanket, staring up at the star-lit sky. She seemed to be preoccupied tonight, perhaps with thoughts of going home, perhaps with other things.

He knew that nothing would get her attention until she was good and ready. He softly cleared his throat. Although he knew it was probably futile, he was going to try and distract her anyway.

"Ziva."

"Yes," she replied dreamily, not allowing any real openings for conversation.

He smiled to himself, because she was so involved in thought she wouldn't even look at him.

"I've been thinking about... well, about going home. Do you think I should take that desk job that Vance offered me? Maybe I should take some more time off, just sit back and take it easy for a while."

This at least brought her attention onto him and off the stars. "Ha!"

He laughed at the open disbelief on her face. "This time I really think I'm going to do it."

She turned back to look at the sky again. "Tony, just how many times have you said that you were going to spend more time at home?"

"Once or twice... All right, several," he conceded.

"And just how much time have you actually taken off in the past twelve years? Not counting the past two months?" she asked pointedly.

"Okay, you have a point, but this time I'm really serious about it," he asserted.

She shrugged. "Suit yourself, but I will not let you hang around the house doing nothing all day."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is that so?" he asked, and couldn't entirely hide the surprise in his voice.

"Yes," she replied firmly. She would have to make it clear from the start that she wouldn't give in on this. "You can just go find some hobby to occupy your time. And I do not want you hanging over my shoulder all day long, looking for something to entertain you."

He raised his other eyebrow. "What if I promise to behave myself?"

"That would be a miracle," she exclaimed.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

She sat up, cocking her own eyebrow at him. "I do not think I need to bring up that incident in the conferencen room..."

He raised a hand, laughing. "Point taken, but I still think if McGee hadn't interrupted..."

"We would've had a bigger problem when Gibbs walked into the room ten seconds later," she reminded him, finishing his sentence.

He laughed harder.

"You're right. We really should try to find a way around all those... intrusions."

"How about locking the doors?"

"Wouldn't that just raise everyone's suspicions?" he said. "No, with Gibbs around, I think more subtle methods are needed."

"Then how about giving each other secret signals," she giggled. "You know, like when you wear that yellow tie I gave you, it means: 'Men's Bathroom, in half an hour'."

"Ooh, that tie is going to wear out in no time," he laughed.

"Just make sure you don't wear out," she urged him, pointing her finger at him.

"Don't worry about me," he assured her. "I'm living my second youth here."

And as if to prove that, he stood up and walked over to where she was sitting, seating himself next to her. Sliding a hand around her waist, he kissed her neck. "And what would this mean?"

"To hell with everyone?" she suggested.

"Something like that, yes. Oh, Ziva, I want to be there, where you are. You know, you could just spend time relaxing with me. We could sleep in..." he coaxed.

"Tony, you know that you'd be bored to death within a month without your work. You even phoned McGee the other day, to ask him about some of your sources."

"But you seem to manage to find plenty to do with yourself," he complained.

"Need I remind you that I have a full time job? And if you stay home, or even just take that desk job, just what would you do with yourself all day?"

He leaned over, murmuring in her ear, "Well, first, I'd start at that spot just behind your right ear, and then..."

She playfully slapped his hand away, as it began its own journey. "See, you cannot even behave yourself now." She reached over, rubbing a hand gently over his jaw. "By the way, when was the last time you shaved?"

He rubbed at the beard now growing. "I thought maybe I'd try growing a beard and see if it made me look any younger."

She leaned back, inspecting it in the firelight. "I don't know, Tony. I can't see how growing a beard's going to make you look any younger."

Then he shrugged, leaning over her again. "Well, we're just going to have to wait and see about the beard. Now, is there any way I could talk you into coming to bed with me, or should we just try a reenactment of the office fiasco and see if my theory holds up?" he asked, a smoldering smile, number eight that was, on his lips.

"No! You promised me we were going to camp on the beach, and that is exactly what we will do."

"Yes, but..."

"Ah, no buts," she silenced him. "A promise is a promise."

She kissed his cheek. She then stood up and held out her hand to him.

"Come on. Let's go for a short walk."

"It's almost eleven o'clock!" he protested.

With an annoyed grimace, she went for his wrist.

"There," she said, as she threw his watch on his towel. "Now, shall we? Or are you afraid of the dark?" she teased. He watched in disbelief as she walked away from the fire. "Come on."

He nodded toward her bare feet. "What about shoes?"

"We won't need them. We will not go very far."

He shook his head at her. "Fine."

As they walked along the shore, he could feel her hand slide into his, and he squeezed it gently in response. How had he managed this, he wondered, what had he done to finally have her here with him, sharing his life?

He smiled as she laid her head on his shoulder. Perhaps the better question was how he had managed to leave her out of his life for so long.

The half moon illuminated the sand and water at their feet. He smiled, remembering the all the walks along this same beach they had taken the past few days. The sounds of the ocean, voices of other people carrying in the breeze, Ziva's whispers of affection, the solitude and peace. This was a magical place of renewal, but perhaps it was not a place to dwell in for too long. At least, not now.

They stopped for a moment, watching the way the moonlight played along the water at the edge of the shore. He stood, watching the way the moonlight illuminated her face. For a minute, maybe even two, he could only stare, entranced by her once again. And then, she turned toward him, her eyes moving over his face, and she smiled. He watched her lips spread smoothly into the smile, delighting in the way the delicate lines around her eyes deepened. He slowly reached up and brushed a loose curl back over her ear, and stepped closer.

She placed her hands gently on his chest, and as he drew nearer, she slid them up around his shoulders. Her fingers rested on his bare neck, caressing the hair at the back of his head.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. She was still smiling, and he smiled, too. She touched her nose to his and then closed her eyes. He nudged in closer, feeling her breath on his lips.

She had her eyes closed, yet she could feel the expression on his face shifting. Smile number eight - smoldering - turned into smile number one, setting his lips on fire. Setting her on fire, too.

She brushed her lips against his, tracing his mouth with hers. And then he felt her open her mouth and her breath joined with his. He kissed her deeply, drinking her in.

A thousand emotions washed over her, and she melted against him. Her knees actually felt weak as she returned his kiss, and then all rational thought left her as he kissed her again. She could feel his heart beating with hers, smell his cologne, and taste his lips, all of him around her.

His hand sank into her hair, feeling it flowing through his fingers, cool and silky to the touch. And he kissed her again, now holding her neck, holding her to him. She traced one hand along his cheek as their kiss lingered and then slowly ended. She kept her eyes closed, her head slightly lowered.

He watched her, moving his hand along her back, caressing her.

"Tony," she whispered and then stopped, not knowing what else to say.

He stayed silent, giving her time. He felt her chest rise as she took a deep breath and then felt it fall as she breathed out. Her heartbeat mixed with his against him and, for a moment, it was all he could hear.

Then she leaned back in his arms, a playful smile on her lips. And before he realized what was happening, she had slid out of her dress and headed straight for the water. Wearing nothing but a smile.

Hmmm... This was not really what he'd had in mind.

"Ziva?" he called, confused. Then, louder, he called her name again. He glanced around warily, but the beach was empty. Still, someone could show up at any moment.

"Ziva?!"

He walked a few steps towards the ocean, then stopped again. Looking at her, desperately. The water reached her waist now. She turned around, smiled, and beckoned tentatively. Then, she leaned over and slowly let herself fall into the lagoon.

He still stood there, uncertain what to do. Then, he made a decision. Hell, there was no harm in a little midnight swim, was there? He pulled his polo shirt over his head and stepped out of his shorts. With a quick last look left and right on the beach, he joined her.

It sure was hot outside.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: The Right Time: Early Morning

Author: StormInMyHeart

Pairing: Tony/Ziva (what else!)

Series: The Right Time

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: K+

Summary: A set of vignettes each at a different time of day...

Spoilers: None really, although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.

:: :: ::

Early Morning

God, it was still hot outside.

It was only 0530 hours, and already you could feel the sun burning down, heating up the ground, and raising the temperature both inside and out. Who's brilliant idea had it been to honeymoon in the Caribbean in the summer, anyway? Oh, yeah, now he remembered. It had been *his* brilliant idea. He sighed. Well, soon enough it would all be behind them...

Right then, Ziva waltzed into of the kitchen dressed in a - he wasn't quite sure what to call it - a provocative collection of fabric and holes. Relatively see-through fabric, no less. He studied it thoughtfully, just trying to figure out how all those different pieces were held together. She saw him staring at her and just laughed.

"It's ventilation," she explained. "In this kind of weather, you like to have a little 'air conditioning.'"

On second thought, maybe the Caribbean in the summertime wasn't all that bad...

"Are you going to finish that papaya any time soon?" she asked, gesturing to the forgotten fruit he held in his hand.

He quickly resumed chewing, a drop of juice leaking down his chin. She picked a guava fruit out of the basket and bit into it.

"You keep surprising me, you know," he confessed. "Now where did this... dress come from again?"

"Well..." she replied. "You wouldn't charter a private jet for us, so I had to pack lightly. Ultra-lightly, actually." Her eyes twinkled with laughter. "Still, I could have spared myself the trouble," she continued. "So many of my clothes never even left my suitcase."

"Saves us some time packing to go home," he retorted. Then he sighed. Their time alone was now down to just a few hours.

She noticed his look, saw his shoulders drop just that tiny little bit. And she knew he was thinking of home, of having to face everyday life again, of facing extended time apart on a regular basis. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing him to look at her.

"Time we can spend on other things," she told him. "I think I'd like some of that papaya, too."

Her tongue flickered lightly, then found the trail of the papaya juice. Raspy taste buds danced on raspy beard stubble.

"Come back to bed," she whispered.

"But you're already dressed," he pointed out.

"There are lots of entrances, though," she said teasingly, and brought his hand to her bare midriff.

He kept his distance and narrowed his eyes, studying her in that dress. Some of the slits were in rather strategic positions.

"Lots of exits, too, I'd say..." he teased back.

She followed his gaze down.

"Well... It's a maternity dress, really..."

If there ever was a conversation stopper, this one was it. You could actually see her words travel to his mind, and the reactions they provoked in different parts of his body. First, his eyes widened. Then he stopped breathing. Then he stopped moving altogether. She could actually see the lump grow in his throat, before he swallowed it down.

Meanwhile, his thoughts were racing. Okay, she'd missed a pill, one day. But they'd taken care of that. Wait. But still, condoms weren't as reliable as the pill. But still... Oh, God, what if she hadn't noticed right away that she'd skipped a day? Good God, it could have been a day or even two before she'd noticed. He still remembered her, sitting there, frowning over the aluminum strip. Counting on her fingers.

"Something wrong?" he'd asked.

"Hmm, it looks like I forgot one," she'd admitted.

He'd seen his plans for the immediate future go up in smoke at that very instant. To his relief, she'd hastily added "But it shouldn't be a problem. Here, the instructions state that one day is no problem. We just need to use an extra method for precaution. Just to be sure... I'm sorry, Tony, it's just that day and night - well, it all kind of blends together, here..."

Okay, think. What had they been doing before she'd made the discovery? Okay, think, think, *what* had they been doing? Hmm, well, no need to wonder about that. Oh, this was no use…

"What do you mean?" he finally managed to ask. Barely.

"What do you think it means?" Teasingly. Oh, this was going to be better than she'd hoped for. He just remained speechless, silent, motionless. Not knowing what to say, what to ask next. Finally, she could contain her laughter no longer.

"I bought it on sale, silly man!" she laughed.

He stared at her, not sure what to make out of that explanation. If it was an explanation. The look on his face made her shake with laughter. Tears welled up in her eyes. Did that mean it was safe to start breathing again?

"Umm, Ziva, sweetheart. Please, have mercy," he begged.

Obviously, that was not the way to get her talking. A new salvo of laughter was the only result. Oh, he looked so helpless, so... lost.

"Oh, Tony, I am sorry..." she giggled. "It's just that I stumbled on this sale of special creations by some top designers. This little beauty was seventy percent off, and that was a good enough reason to buy it. And it makes a great beach cover up," she rationalized her purchase.

"And... that's it? Nothing more?" he asked, still not completely recovered.

"Well... No," she replied.

"You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days!" he reprimanded her, but the relief on his face was unmistakable. "So, just to make sure: you're not pregnant?"

"Umm, no. At least..." For a moment, she hesitated, but when she saw his no-nonsense expression, she quickly went on. "At least, not to the best of my knowledge. And that's the only answer I can give you."

She'd turned very serious, all of a sudden. Tony looked at her. Now that his thoughts and emotions were slowly falling into place again, he started to realize she might've misinterpreted his reaction.

"Ziva, sweetheart, it's not that I don't want to have children. Don't ever think that. It's just that, well... If you do get pregnant, could you just break it to me in a somewhat less... abrupt... way?"

He was encouraged by her slowly returning smile.

"So that I can at least get the chance to clear the furniture out of the way before I start whirling you around in my arms..."

There. Now she really gave him that delightful smile.

"Consider it a deal," she grinned, and squeezed his hand. "Now, are we going to go pack, or what?"

Her mischievous grin always aroused him.

"I'd go for 'or what!'" he said in that velvety deep voice of his, and pulled her into his arms.

What followed was an interesting field trip, on which he discovered all the advantages of the dress for himself.

No wonder it was hot outside.


	11. Chapter 11

Title: The Right Time: Mid Day

Author: StormInMyHeart

Pairing: Tony/Ziva (what else!)

Series: The Right Time

Category: Romance/AU

Rating: K

Summary: A set of vignettes each at a different time of day...

Spoilers: None really, although all episodes are fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a few minutes.

:: :: ::

Mid-Day

It was hot outside. The heat of the sun reflected off the black tarmac and made the day seem even hotter than it really was.

She adjusted the shoulder strap of her carry-on bag as she followed her husband out to the plane. She squinted in the bright sunlight, forgetting to pull down her sunglasses, as she surveyed the charter plane that stood waiting for them.

"That's a pretty big plane for only two people," she noted to Tony, as she watched the rest of their luggage being loaded into the cargo hold by the ground crew. This time, he _had _chartered a private jet. He smiled and glanced at her, his eyes hidden by dark, aviator-style sunglasses.

"Only the best for my wife," he answered, yelling above the roar of the plane's idling engines, lightly swinging the leather bag he carried in his left hand. "After all, it's not as if we can't afford it. Besides, I thought you'd need the room for all those souvenirs you bought."

She smiled. "Good point," she remarked, remembering just how many gifts she'd bought over the past two weeks.

"Yes, it was," he said, laughing. "Besides, I thought we should start our new life in style."

"You know, I've always admired you for your style," she teased.

He began walking again toward the plane, keeping his arm around Ziva's slender waist. They mounted the portable staircase and entered the plane. They were greeted by an attractive young blonde woman in a uniform, who smiled at them politely.

Ziva smoothed the skirt of her dress beneath her and sat in the plush seat. Tony sat down as well, buckling his seat belt. The two idly listened as the stewardess instructed them in the safety and emergency procedures.

Only moments later, the acceleration of the take-off pushed them back into their seats. Ziva clutched her armrests as she saw the tarmac rushing by. Somehow, the speed, the acceleration of a plane on the runway, always seemed uncontrollable, and it brought her dislike of flying to the forefront of her mind. She half expected that they'd be too heavy to get enough lift, that they would just keep on running faster and faster. And yet, just as they reached the end of the strip, the plane became airborne. She secretly let out a small sigh of relief.

The screen in front of them flickered into life, and the in-flight information appeared. The numbers next to 'speed' and 'altitude' rose rapidly, while 'temperature' took a dive. It sure was cold outside.

Yet, inside the plane it was snug and warm. Ziva had loosened her seat belt and was leaning over to the tiny window, leaning into Tony. She studied the shrinking landscape underneath.

After a while, the island left the corner of her eye and she could see nothing but ocean. She sighed. Their honeymoon was over.

Half an hour later, she reached the final page of her novel and closed the book with a small sigh. She frowned over her feeling of regret. Reaching the end of a story always made her feel a little lost. It was never easy to break loose from the fantasy world in your head and step back into the real world. Even when that real world was a romance novel of its own.

Her eyes wandered over to the man next to her. He was sound asleep, lightly covered in a blue airline blanket. The lack of rest and the weird hours they'd maintained had taken their toll on him. Poor Tony. She leaned over to him and rearranged the blanket a little. He stirred, but didn't wake. Mumbling something she couldn't possibly make out.

She leaned back against her own headrest, her hands folded in her lap, yet kept studying him. She noticed how the blanket rose and fell with his heavy breathing. She saw a muscle next to his mouth twitch, and heard again some inaudible words leave his lips. He looked so... adorable. So vulnerable, too. And now it was her privilege to take care of him, to make sure nothing, and no one, would ever hurt him again.

She smiled at the thought. She smiled upon her husband, and she was filled with a mixture of pride, and joy, and love. But above all, she was filled with a sense of belonging.

And suddenly, she had to fight down a rush of laughter, laughter at her own stupidity. Their honeymoon wasn't over at all. Not as long he could make her feel like this. She felt all warm inside.

THE END


End file.
